Spies Like Us
by Avail
Summary: Agent!AU. A collection of stories where the Nordics are members of the Compass Organization's North Unit, specializing in assassination.
1. Following Protocol

**Title:** Following Protocol  
**Rating:** PG  
**Character(s)/Pairing(s):** Denmark, Norway, Iceland, Germany, Prussia. Hints at Denmark/Norway  
**Word Count:** 890  
**Warning/s:** AU, human names used  
**Summary:** A training mission backfires and Agent Viking faces the consequences.  
**A/N:**Secret agent!AU. I'm intending for this to be a series of mostly unconnected stories, where the Nordics make up the North Unit of the organization (Area of expertise: assassinations) Other nations (as agents in the remaining Units) may/may not make brief appearances. Depends on how far this pet project of mine continues to eat up my brain. xD

Credit for the Nordics' agent names goes to kariudo-kun on deviantArt, whose drawings of my fav five as spies basically inspired all this. (Seriously, go check out their work, it's hilarious and AWESOME)

Aron = Iceland  
Aleksander = Norway

**Disclaimer**: I have no claim to Hetalia and its characters.

* * *

"What the HELL were you thinking with that stunt? You coulda killed the runt!" the Coordinator shouted, slamming his hands on the desk for emphasis.

Mathias stood in front of the desk, shoulders straight and hands behind his back; the table hid the slight shuffling of his feet. His tone was neutral as he replied, "There were unexpected complications, sir."

The Coordinator opened his mouth, about to shout some more when he was interrupted.

"Enough, brother." All eyes turned toward the Director, Ludwig, who had an even graver look on his face than usual. Gilbert eyed his brother, then nodded once and stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest and continuing to glare at Mathias.

"Agent Viking, in face of the near failure of your team's latest mission and your own subsequent behavior, resulting in the injury of a fellow agent, the decision has been made to remove you from the remainder of this Initiative."

"— What? You can't do that— " He snapped his mouth shut as Ludwig raised his hand.

The Director looked to the back of the room, where two other men had been standing patiently the entire time. "Agent Troll. You will continue further assignments partnered with Agent Ikea. Agent Heavy Metal has already been briefed with command directives."

"Understood."

"Agent Puffin."

Aron flushed bright red at being suddenly addressed. A bandage could be seen peeking out from under his shirt collar. "Y-yes sir."

"You have our apologies. You're both dismissed." Aron nodded quickly, and followed his brother out of the room.

The remaining men all watched as the door closed behind them. Ludwig faced Mathias again. "This mission was supposed to be a simple live-field training procedure for a new recruit. The rest of your team is experienced, or mad, enough to understand your wild changes to protocol and so we let it slide. No more. If anything happens again, I'll leave it as your responsibility to explain to your team why someone is injured. Or worse. Am I clear?"

Mathias' voice was tight as he replied, "Yes sir."

Gilbert spoke up from where he'd been watching the exchange. "Hmph. Get outta here, punk. Dismissed."

A tense nod and Mathias walked out of the room as fast as his long legs would allow. When the door had clicked shut behind him, he let out a deep sigh and ran his fingers frustratedly through his hair. After staring off into nothing for a bit, he straightened up again and headed towards the elevator. He needed a drink.

* * *

The bar was a small place his team frequented often, owned by a German whose Swedish wife insisted on selling drinks from home. Mathias walked through the dim interior, determined, heading to an isolated side section, where a familiar shape was seated alone. He approached the table and slid into the opposite seat and motioned to a server who was passing. "Stauning, please."

There was a quiet snort from his companion. "You're still drinking that garbage?"

"Always will. I have my Danish pride, you know."

It was the first words they had spoken to each other since the mission.

Mathias's drink arrived and he took a slow sip, letting the whiskey burn down his throat. Both men were silent as they drank. Aleksander stared at the front of the bar, from where the street was visible. Mathias looked at Aleksander's face, trying to gauge the other man's feelings. But that face remained unreadable, even to him, who knew Aleksander so well.

"I'm sorry." He blurted out.

Aleksander finally deemed to look him in the eyes at the outburst, expression becoming as cold as the ice of his homeland. "My brother dislocated a shoulder. Almost broke his collarbone." His tone was even, but the accusation hung in the air between them.

Mathias actually felt at a loss for words in the face of the anger in Aleksander's eyes. They both knew very well that his brother was his weakness. Aleksander turned his face away, looking towards the street again. "If Aron gets hurt, it better be his own damn fault. Not some idiot's."

"I'm not blaming him— but that van came out of nowhere. I didn't expect —"

At those words, Mathias swallowed the last of his drink and started to leave. "And we _expect_ the leader to be prepared."

"Norge, wait." Mathias grabbed his wrist, thumb brushing against warm skin.

Aleksander just looked down at him, expression blank. Tensing under the scrutiny, Mathias dropped his gaze to his fingers on the other man's arm instead. His grip tightened as he choked out, "—You and Ikea."

Aleksander yanked his arm away.

"You're even stupider than I thought. I'm finishing the job with him and that's it. I don't want to see you until Central tells you it's over." And cool as always, he walked out, not looking back.

Mathias watched his retreating figure through the window until it faded from his view. Then he tossed back the rest of his whiskey and stood up. Throwing some bills onto the table, Mathias walked out onto the streets of Berlin. He wandered aimlessly down some avenue, lost in thought, hands bunched in his pockets. The Initiative wasn't due to end for another month or so. He sighed. Now seemed as good a time as any for that fishing vacation...

* * *

Blame Gilbert for the agent names, he's the one who registers them into the system. Ludwig is never pleased when the new files come in.

Oh, and their pseudonyms? Agent Strudel and Agent Awesome. XD


	2. Men At Work

**Title**: Men At Work  
**Rating**: PG  
**Character(s)**/**Pairing(s)**: Iceland, Sweden, Finland, Norway, Canada  
**Word Count**: 1,306  
**Warning/s**: AU, human names used  
**Summary**: The North Unit's latest mission is in its final stages.  
**A/N:** Featuring a drive by Canada cameo.

(Also, I really hate the line break system. It's so frustrating.)

**Disclaimer**: I have no claim to Hetalia and its characters.

* * *

Another strong gust forced Aron to narrow his eyes against the sting. Too windy in this place. He did some quick mental calculations as he walked. Tino was more than smart enough to take the wind factor into consideration; he'd be professionally insulted if the _rookie_ ever questioned him, but Aron could worry about covering all bases as he pleased in the privacy of his thoughts.

He adjusted the collar of the jacket he had taken from one of the watchmen and strolled to the car lot, where a van was parked, engine still and lights off.

He ran through a checklist as he approached the car. No one following him, check. Weapon at the ready in case of attackers, check. Perimeter analyzed, with all entrances and exits memorized, check. Aron glanced around one last time to see if there was anyone around before sliding into the passenger side. Seated at the wheel, Berwald was polishing his favorite pair of brass knuckles, a rag blotched with pink in his hand.

The communicator in Aron's ear clicked, "Seven minutes 'till delivery."

"Copy, Heavy Metal. In position."

Next to him, Berwald shifted restlessly, staring in the direction of the building where their lead sniper was currently lying in wait. Aron shook his head slightly, amused at the older man's worrying streak and spoke into his mic.

"Troll- status report."

"In position and ready. Take your time... I want to finish this crossword puzzle."

Aron rolled his eyes. "Copy."

Berwald chuckled under his breath. "Smartass."

Aron grinned and looked at his watch. Maybe he was still too new to the mental stress of missions, but he felt that being on the exit team was the absolute worst. The threat of discovery loomed constantly over them and they still had to wait for Tino to secure the target and get himself to the pickup point.

Tino's voice came up unexpectedly through the radio. "Game change. I have a clear shot. Proceeding."

Berwald responded to the message and turned the keys in the ignition. Both men sat tensed and waiting, adrenaline pumping. As they sat there, someone's life was ending. By the time any security could determine the location of the shooter and send reinforcements, Tino would have already packed his equipment and been on his merry way. All they would find is a small silver compass neatly placed in plain sight— a message sent from the Compass Organization.

* * *

There was a cheerful smile, as always, on Tino's face as he threw a duffel bag onto the backseat and jumped into the van.

"Let's go. Should be all clear."

Berwald nodded and they drove smoothly out of the compound. The camera footage had been hacked long ago. Berwald had taken care of the personnel at the gate. Aleksander was waiting at a discreet airfield owned by a 'friend', ready to get them out of the country. Mathias had already returned to Germany the previous week, to report on the Initiative's progress and assist the West Unit with a small job.

They drove for a few blocks before turning into a small repair garage and swapping the van for an unmarked residential vehicle.

Aron clicked his radio on again to contact his brother.

"Vehicles exchanged. We'll be arriving shortly."

"_Finally_. Copy. I'll alert Central."

Tino had switched to the passenger's side at the garage, and he sank back in the seat, head dropping back and eyes closing as he sighed.

"Initiative finally complete... I can't wait for some down time after this." His head suddenly perked back up as another thought came into mind. "And we're finally heading home— I can't take any more of this crazy foreign food! ...Do you two have any vacation plans?"

"Might visit Peter." replied Berwald after a pause, referring to the young boy he had adopted in all but name. "Haven't seem 'im in a while."

Tino smiled. "I'm sure he'll be happy to see his Papa after so long."

"N't his dad. You kn'w tha'." Berwald mumbled, flustered at the comment. Tino's smile widened at seeing a blush spread across Berwald's cheeks at his words. Berwald was always embarrassed by that word, no matter how many times they had the same conversation.

"What about you?" he asked, twisting around to look at Aron, who had been staring at the scenery passing by, wishing for a comfortable hotel bed. The rush of adrenaline after a job always left him exhausted.

He shrugged, "Troll mentioned going to the country for a few days, but I'm still technically on duty. The Director wants me to spend some time at Central getting the hang of the paperwork."

Tino hummed in reply and continued to fidget in his seat. Eventually, he spoke up again. "I think maybe I'll go visit my cousins in Estonia for a bit. I haven't seen them in ages!" He sighed again when he got no response and whined, "You two are too quiet."

Aron smiled. The other man's good humor was always contagious. "You just don't appreciate the silence. Isn't that right, Ikea?"

"..."

Aron laughed. "See? Ikea gets it."

Tino huffed at the easy teasing and pulled a music player out of his jacket pocket. He shoved the earbuds in and proceeded to blast the music so loudly having headphones on was basically pointless. They continued the rest of the drive accompanied by the loud echo of Finnish metal overflowing from the speakers.

* * *

Aron was dozing when the car jerked to a stop. He looked up as he felt poking at his knee. "Time to get up!" Tino was practically shouting from the headphones still in his ears.

Yawning, dragged himself out of the car. They had parked a short distance from the runway, where a sleek Cessna 402 was waiting. As the three walked towards the plane, a blonde man jumped down the steps and headed in their direction. He was completely nondescript, a forgettable figure in a red hoodie and sneakers. No one would ever suspect this man of owning a hidden, illegal airfield.

He spoke when he reached them, voice soft and placid. "Hey guys, name's Matt. Everything's all ready for your departure, just need to get yourselves inside." He waved his hand towards the plane as he adjusted his glasses.

Tino thanked him and led the way into the cabin. Aleksander, seated in the pilot's chair, finished folded a newspaper and tossed it aside as they entered.

"About time."

He reached for a thermos by his feet and shoved it into Aron's hand.

"What's this?"

"Extra strength coffee. You'll need it...co-pilot."

"What? You're joking. I'm _dying_ over here."

"Tough luck, little brother. Don't worry, we're only heading to Iceland. We'll grab a commercial flight from there."

"...Iceland." Aron repeated blankly.

Aleksander's mouth twitched as he wordlessly passed his brother a headset.

Aron stared at him for a moment, before snatching away the headset and throwing himself into the chair. He muttered unintelligibly under his breath the entire time, only words like '_not fair'_ and '_bully'_ and '_just 'cause I'm new'_.

Aleksander glanced at him sidelong, amusement very evident. "Now that doesn't sound very professional of you."

Aron flushed at being caught and steadily tried to ignore his brother, eyes staring straight ahead.

From his seat behind them, Tino spoke up, "It's cute how you two argue. It's like a flight and a show."

Matt's quiet voice crackled to life over the radio, masking any protests from Aron. "All set for takeoff, Agent Troll. Let me know when to alert the tower."

"Ready. Awaiting instruction."

In a few moments, they had taken off. Berwald had picked up the discarded newspaper and was flipping through the pages. Tino's music was back on full blast. Aron found himself tapping his foot along with the beat as he and Aleksander guided the airplane along its path. It would be nice to go home.


	3. Meanwhile In Denmark

**Title**: Meanwhile... in Denmark.  
**Rating**: PG  
**Character(s)**/**Pairing(s)**: Denmark, mentions of the other Nordics  
**Word Count**: 604  
**Warning/s**: AU, human names used  
**Summary**: While on suspension from his team's current mission, Mathias has to find some way to entertain himself. More a less an intermission piece to "Following Protocol"  
**A/N: **This is a purely ridiculous piece written because I can't abide the idea of a mopey Denmark.

**Disclaimer**: I have no claim to Hetalia and its characters.

* * *

Mathias was bored.

Bored wasn't even a strong enough word for the restlessness he was feeling. He had run out of ideas for entertain himself days ago. Currently, he was trying to grow out a beard simply out of curiosity to see how big it would get. ...Damn thing was itchy though.

When he had first arrived in Copenhagen, he was still smarting from the lashing he'd gotten from Central, and even more so from Aleksander's rejection. His frustration with _everything_ had first chased him into the pub night after night, but all the drinks and all the flirting with pretty girls and the hangovers the next day had gotten stale. (Plus he'd gotten his wallet stolen when he passed out that Saturday)

The second week, he'd gotten in his car and driven to a small house he'd rented in the countryside. There was a lake nearby, and he had stuffed the back of his car with his rods and a new collection of bait. But, despite his best efforts, the fish steadfastly refused to bite day after day. All he would end up doing is falling asleep in his boat, lulled by the hot weather and slow rocking of the boat, as he desperately waited for _something_ to snag the line. (He called it quits the afternoon he woke up from yet another nap with the bright outline of fingers sunburned onto his face because he'd fallen asleep with his hand over his eyes.)

So here he was, back in his apartment in the city, hiding out until that ridiculous mark on his face faded. If anyone from the team happened to see him, Mathias knew they'd never let him live it down. He could just picture the angle of Aleksander's eyebrows. ("Why Mathias, I wouldn't have guessed you _were_ that stupid.") He imagined the way Berwald's mouth would twitch with the need to laugh, eyes gloating. Tino would take one look at him and burst out laughing, straight in his face, and then frantically try to apologize at his blunder. Aron would just slap his forehead in disbelief and shake his head.

...Mathias missed their company. If they had all finished the Initiative together, he would have probably thrown himself into someone else's plans, just for the company. He might have stuck close to Aleksander, who would have complained the entire time and then never asked him to leave.

Mathias frowned. He was getting too sentimental. And with that thought, he went off to the basement, where he had a few exercise machines set up. A new workout routine seemed like a good idea.

The next week found him shouting frantically into his headset.

"SHIT. Behind you! Look out!"

He was forced to watch helplessly as his team member was blown up by a long distance missile, dismembered bits scattering onto the ground.

"What the hell was that? We lost the match because of you idiots!"

Mathias ripped of the headset and threw it against the wall. He was on his couch, legs dangling over the back as he lay upside down, playing Modern Warfare 3 with the stupidest kids _ever_ apparently.

Frustrated, he flipped himself over and stomped to the kitchen to grab a beer. As he straightened up from reaching into the fridge, he glanced towards the calendar he had pinned up. Four more days until his flight back to Berlin.

His sunburn had finally faded, and in four days, he'd be back with _competent_ fighters, who could aim a damn gun.

He passed his fingers over his face. ...He'd probably need to shave the beard first though.


	4. In Good Company

**Title**: In Good Company  
**Rating**: PG  
**Character(s)**/**Pairing(s)**: Norway, Turkey, England, Iceland, Finland  
**Word Count**: 1,382  
**Warning/s**: AU, human names used  
**Summary**: Aron is currently hearing the results of his application to the Compass Organization. His brother is anxious.  
**A/N:** Just a little backstory for my boys. And because I like the idea of an Aleksander who is mentally biting his nails to the quick, out of concern for his sibling.

Koehler = Denmark. (full name: Mathias Koehler— like the brand of sinks!)

I know most people have Turkey's name as "Sadiq." But since the Turkish alphabet doesn't actually have Q's, I'm using what would be the correct spelling.

**Disclaimer**: I have no claim to Hetalia and its characters.

* * *

"Stop pacing like that. It's driving me crazy."

Aleksander frowned and looked up at the voice.

Sadik shrugged. "What? You look like a new father waiting outside the delivery room."

Aleksander didn't stop, but he did slow down his steps as he continued to pace outside the conference room.

"The interview's been going on for over an hour. It's taking too long."

Sadik was sprawled on the couch, legs stretched out in front of him, occupied with studying the ceiling, but he lowered his gaze back to Aleksander. Sadik's bright green eyes, for once not obscured by his usual mask, considered him for a moment.

"Relax— the kid'll be fine. He's smart enough for this."

Aleksander didn't bother answering. He didn't care much for the other man's opinion—or the way his brother seemed to look up to Adnan. Aleksander was wary of him, with good reason, he felt. He was wary of anyone in the South Unit, which specialized in espionage Initiatives. It was their job to be dishonest, and Adnan had the added allure of mystery as he was occasionally borrowed by the East Unit for "protection."

Aleksander sighed and moved to sit at the corner of the couch, back rigid and face tense with anticipation, only to jump up immediately again as the door opened.

He had to force his face to not show any disappointment as only Arthur Kirkland—Agent Eyebrows— stepped out of the room. Kirkland nodded at both men. "Agents."

Sadik lazily raised his hand in acknowledgement. Aleksander nodded in return, unsure whether or nor he should ask what was happening in the conference room.

Kirkland must have seen the struggle in his eyes because his face softened a bit and said, "Don't worry, the lad's doing fine. They were just asking for my assessment, since I've known you both for so long. He's young, but he has the potential for this."

Aleksander felt some of the tightness in his chest, which he refused to vocalize, recede. "Thanks, Arthur."

"Of course. Take care." A final nod and he walked away.

Sadik grinned at Aleksander after Kirkland had left, "See? What I tell ya?

Aleksander started to pace again anyway, waving away the reassurance. "I just want this part to be over."

As he continued to circle the hall, Aleksander's eyes kept returning to the heavy wood door. Behind it, his brother was undergoing his last interview with both the Director and Coordinator, about to receive a final verdict as to whether or not he would become an official member of the Compass Organization.

Aleksander fell back into his usual thoughts of wondering exactly why his brother had wanted to join... He had struggled to raise his baby brother after their parents had died, working jobs after classes and on the weekends to make ends meet. Aleksander had paid his way through university and earned his degree in computer engineering; by the time he had graduated, Aron was about to begin his studies in medicine. Aleksander's constant searches for quick money had eventually led to the underground market, where his talents had gained the attention of Kirkland. Willing to do anything to provide his brother with a good life, Aleksander had signed on quickly and never looked back. Aleksander's only condition upon being "hired" was to be able to tell his brother exactly what the situation was.

Once he'd broken the news to his brother, Aron had surprised him by leaving medical school and going into mechanical technology instead. Before long, his determination and eagerness to learn had allowed him to worm his way into the notice of other Organization members.

Aron had gone behind his back and spoken with the Director personally. To this day, Aleksander didn't know what they had spoken of, neither man would say. But after that, Aron had begun his application process. On top of finishing his studies, he began to train in weaponry and martial arts under Tino. He spent several months under the tutelage of both Kirkland in the West Unit and Adnan, who bounced between the South and East Units.

When Aleksander had finally confronted his brother about continuing down this path, with all its dangers and risks, Aron had merely shrugged him off saying, "I just want to try it." Aleksander hadn't pushed the discussion any further; he knew the truth would come out eventually.

Aleksander was interrupted from his reverie as he heard feet running down the hall and a breathless Tino skidded to a stop in front of him.

"Just came back... from the...shooting range... I'm not late, am I?" he panted.

"Nah, you're probably just in time. Join the party." Sadik patted the couch, lounging like a king on his throne.

Tino smiled gratefully and went to sit. "I think he'll get through, no problems. It'll be exciting to have a new member, don't you think?" He asked, addressing Aleksander.

"Just as long as you don't have to babysit him _and_ Koehler." Sadik piped up.

"Hey!" Tino protested, "Aron can handle himself."

Sadik snorted. "Yeah he can— and Aleks here _handles_ Koehler just fine. Don't you?" The shark's grin on his face said it all.

Aleksander fought to keep the color from rising to his cheeks and was about to respond angrily when the door opened again and Aron stepped out, looking a bit dazed. All three agents immediately focused their attention on the young man.

"Aron..." Aleksander began, eyes on his brother's pale face.

The dazed expression faded from the young man's face, and now it broke out into a slow, joyous smile. "Well... You're all looking at the newest member of the North Unit."

Tino jumped up from the couch and whooped in excitement, while Sadik roared "Congrats kid!", picking up Aron in a fierce one-armed hug. When he set Aron down, red faced and his hair ruffled, the young man turned to his older brother.

Aleksander smiled gently. "I'm proud of you."

"Thanks, _bror_."

The two siblings stepped away from where Sadik and Tino were animatedly discussing what nearby bar would be best for an impromptu party.

Aleksander turned to his brother. "So how was it?"

"Not bad. They kept asking about my dedication to this, 'cause of my age. Pretty much as I expected. ...And my reason for joining."

Aleksander nodded slowly as he studied his brother's face, waiting for the rest. Aron's eyes were bright as he finally answered a silent question. "You're my only family. Someone has to watch your back. We're stuck with each other."

Aleksander looked in his brother's eyes for a long time, not saying anything. There wasn't any need to. Finally, he just pulled Aron into a hug, despite his embarrassed sputters.

"I'm proud of you."

Aron relaxed a bit in his grip and gently pulled away.

"Oi— if you two saps are done, let's go get drunk!" Sadik shouted from down the hall. "Everyone else will meet us there!"

Aron grinned and headed towards the elevators, Aleksander trailing behind him.

"Hey Aron... did you get your file name yet?"

"Hm? Oh- no. The Coordinator said he's take care of that for me by tomorrow. ...It can't be that bad, right?" He actually looked a little nervous at the thought. The Coordinator's pseudonym choices were infamous; they were considered a rite of passage in the Organization.

Sadik laughed as he overheard the last bit of the conversation and clapped a reassuring hand onto Aron's shoulder. "Hey, think it this way. Some folks here will always have it worse. Your Agent Eyebrows for one. And don't _ever_ ask Big Sister what her's was originally. So how bad can yours be?"

Tino spoke up, "Just forget about it. The only thing you need to worry about right now is how much you'll be drinking." There was a glint in his eye as he said it.

**(THE NEXT DAY...)**

Aron was going to kill Tino for making him drink so much. He was going to kill Tino using methods the other man had taught him. His head and stomach were threatening to revolt any minute now. But first... he just had to examine the personnel file sitting on his brand new desk.

Aron flipped open the folder and looked at his new ID card in horror.

".._PUFFIN?_"

**END**

Haha, Agent Awesome strikes again!


End file.
